Fallout:New Vegas- Tears in the Desert
by KansasVaultdweller
Summary: This is a story about my favorite spot for a base in the Mojave, Harper's Shack. Who was he? This is story answers a part of that question. This story told in two parts is complete. Please, please leave a comment about what you like, and what you didn't like.
1. Chapter 1

FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS

There is a saying among the settlers of the wasteland that the only reason anything grows here is because we water the Mojave with our tears. I remember seeing a holotape from my Grandfather's vault once. Masses of people walked, or staggered, along the Strip, happy and care free as water danced and moved in elaborate fountains. So much water wasted for a moment's idleness. There were vehicles motoring along, their operating lights forming rivers of luminescence on the streets of old Las Vegas. The people were well fed with no signs of radiation poisoning or disease and they didn't carry guns or wear body armor because the lethal mutations that haunt the Mojave Wasteland didn't exist yet. I wondered to myself how those people could be so willing to destroy that world?

In the distance, through the bars on my window, I can usually see the glow of New Vegas lighting the northern sky, outlining the mountain peaks. That glow is a beacon of false hope and vice that draws in willing fools and takes all their caps with a smile. I've only been to the strip once, back when I served with NCR army, and I didn't think I would ever go back. Tonight a sandstorm is kicking up and there is only darkness.

The lamp on my workbench sputters a bit in the draft as I work on a varmint rifle, trying to fix it with my collection of spare parts. Two years ago a Deathclaw tried to dig me out of my shack, and my repairs were rough and amateurish and the wind comes in easily these days. I will have to sweep the sand out tomorrow. I looked at my tin can lamp and see the Mole Rat oil it burns is running low, so I get up and grab an old whisky bottle half full with oil from a shelf by the door and top it off.

I freeze for an instant, listening intently, and when the sound of rocks shifting came again over the drone of the wind I move quickly to my armor stand. With an efficiency born from long practice, I was buckled into my old combat armor in a matter of seconds. I had just buckled on my knife and sawed off shotgun when someone began pounding on my door.

"Harper, for God's sake, let us in!" Called out a familiar voice. "It's Annie."

I double-checked my shotgun to see if it was loaded, trust being a foolish sentiment in the Mojave, before I cracked open my door. I keep a footlocker full of scrap metal just behind the door with just enough room to open it a few centimeters. Anyone trying to force their way in to my two roomed shack would be held up long enough for me to unload both barrels into them.

Opening the door I see Annie holding a ghoul with his arm over her shoulders. The ghoul is hurt, barely conscious and muttering incoherently. His clothes are shredded and covered in a dark liquid.

"Let us in, dammit!" Annie exclaims. "Rex is hurt bad."

I pull the heavy box out of the way and my erstwhile companion from the NCR army comes into my shack. Another man, a boy really, comes in behind them. He is a smoothskin like Annie and myself. He eyes are wide with fear behind his sand goggles as he looks back in a furtive way as if something bad was following. On his back is an old Sunset Sarsaparilla case with ropes attached as carrying straps.

"Is your trouble following you?" I demand of Annie, hoping she hadn't brought a war to my home.

"I don't think so. We lost them in the sandstorm." She answers me putting the ghoul down on the table that occupies the center of my shack.

"Think or know?" I demand the clarification.

"No one could have followed us in this. We barely made it here ourselves. Any sign we left behind would have been obliterated in seconds."

"All right," I say reluctantly as Annie strips off the ghoul's shredded clothing.

"Can you help Rex?" She asks me.

I don't reply right away, but I open a metal box and pull out two of the four plastic bottles in it filled with water muddy and silt and then say, "Let him drink this, but don't get any on your skin. It's dirty with fallout."

The small wrist Geiger Annie is wearing starts to click when I hand her the water. She gently props the scarred head up and lets him drink his fill in small sips. It is slow going as he is passing in and out of consciousness. The radiation that changed Rex into a ghoul would help to heal him. If he were a smoothskin, I wouldn't have given him any chance of survival, but ghouls were tough, far tougher than normal humans.

While Annie was ministering to the ghoul, I rummaged through a metal box full of junk I had collected over the years. Finding what I needed, I unscrewed the top of the other bottle of dirty water and with a switchblade and some Wonderglue attached a hollow piece of surgical tubing to the cap and on the other end I glued the barrel and needle from an old syringe. With the cap screwed back on, I had an improvised I.V. bottle.

I turn on the flashlight on my grandfather's pip-boy to help me see. It takes me several tries to get the rusty needle through the ghoul's thick scar tissue and into a vein, but I eventually succeed. I then duct taped the bottle to a broom handle and the broom handle to a table's leg and the irradiated water and silt began to flow into the ghoul's veins. You might think my efforts would kill the ghoul with an infection or blood poisoning, but ghouls don't get blood poisoning or infections since microbes cannot live in their irradiated systems.

In my medical kit, I find some clean rolls of bandages and say to Annie, "Here, dress his wounds with these."

I look over at the boy who is standing there, dumbstruck with terror and tell him, "You go outside, just outside the door and watch to see if anyone is coming. You should be able to see their lights before the get here. Remember, stay just outside the door. I have landmines all around here and if step wrong you will lose your leg."

"I know," he replies, "Annie told us. I followed her through the safe path you had marked out."

"Okay," I reply, "shout if you see anything."

I mentally kick myself as the boy goes outside. I should have known a NCR veteran, especially Annie, would know how I had marked my safe path through the mines. I moved the mines around, from time to time, in case anyone is watching my place and figures out where I've buried them. Because of that, I have to mark a safe path with stones set in patterns not readily obvious to a casual passerby.

"There," says Annie, "that should do it. He's slipped under now, I hope we were in time to save him."

When Annie turns around to look at me, her green eyes go wide at the two cavernous barrels of my shotgun a handbreadth from her face. She looks past the gun and sees the horrible determination in my own eyes.

"John," she says, "I am truly sorry. I was told it was just going to be a robbery and no one was to be hurt. I didn't know you were involved or I would never had agreed to help them."

"Four good men died when you and your partners ambushed us in that pass. Two weeks later I crawled out of the desert with a broken arm and two bullets inside of me. Now you come banging on my door asking for my help?"

"John…"

"Give me a reason not pull the trigger." I say in a deadly cold voice.

"Because if you do, a lot of people may die." She says quickly. "Rex is a Follower, a doctor, we were on our way to the Old Mormon Fort in Vegas to meet with a research scientist there with some new medicine. I was hired to help guard the caravan. Some gang ambushed us a few miles from here and they were well armed and organized. I only came here because we were desperate and Rex mustn't die, you see."

"Khans," I tell her, "I saw them moving through a couple of days ago. But do you really expect me to believe that you were working for the Followers of Apocalypse and the Great Khans just happened to hit your caravan? That is a little too much irony for me. No way same gang you shacked up with five years ago to ambush the Followers caravan I was guarding hit yours as well."

"It's true," said a gravelly voice behind Annie. "My name is Dr. Rex Madrid. Ms. Nichols is one of the guards from my caravan. If you don't believe her, then believe me. You must know that the Khans don't allow ghouls among their membership."

"None of that explains why I shouldn't pull this trigger and avenge the death of my comrades."

"You shouldn't because she has apologized and is sorry for what she has done to you in the past." The ghoul's voice is weak as he goes on, "Holding onto grudges and hate is what burned the world with nuclear fire. Ms. Nichols told us about her crimes against us, and we have forgiven her. She has been a loyal protector of the Followers for the last four years."

I slowly lower the gun. I am not convinced, not completely, that Annie is telling me the truth. But it is true the Great Khans don't allow ghouls to join up with them. I walk over and undo the rough clasp holding the lid closed on the wooden case. Inside are vials of a greenish liquid. Handwritten on the labels is R-37-81.

"What is this stuff?" I ask.

The ghoul is unconscious again, and Annie just shrugs her shoulders and says, "Some new medicine the Followers developed in the California Hub. Rex says he's been working on it for seventy years. There is still some problems with it, he said, but if it can be perfected, it will be the biggest thing for medicine since antibiotics were invented."

"Why were the Khans after it?"

"Some of the side effects are hallucinations and feelings of euphoria. The Khans probably want it for illegal chems, I guess. They could make a fortune selling it. How they found out about the shipment, I don't know."

"How did you find out about he shipment you ambushed?" I ask harshly.

Just then the boy came in from outside, and sand blew in behind him. The wind was ripping hard now, making it difficult for him to shut the door. The shack creaked as it shook under the onslaught of sand and wind.

"I can't see anything out there," he explained. "The sandstorm is getting worse. I thought I heard some howling, but it was probably just the wind."

"It was probably the Deathclaws who live in a cave up the valley," I say to him.

"Deathclaws?" The boy asks as his face pales visibly in the dim light of the shack.

"They won't bother us if we don't bother them," I try to reassure him, unsuccessfully. In fact there is a cave up the valley and there are Deathclaws in it, but I blew up the entrance after one of them wandered down here to eat me. The noise he was hearing is an old steam whistle I found years ago. When the wind blows, which is most of the time, it moans out a sound just like a Deathclaw's howl. That noise, the valley's reputation, and the dried skeletons of men and animals scattered about ensure my solitude. For that reason I perpetuate the stories of the Deathclaws at every opportunity.

"Crazy John Harper," Annie says with a mix of admiration and incredulity. "Slayer of monsters, protector of the innocent, neighbor to worst kind of killer to haunt the wasteland."

"Not the worst," I explain, "only the most efficient. They only kill for food or to protect their territory from intruders. Man has always been the worst killer in the Mojave Wasteland because he enjoys it."

"And you are the best killer of them all, John Harper," Annie admonishes me.

"Only when I am hungry or my territory is threatened," I reply.

Normally I cook outside, but with the storm blowing I am forced to wire a series of fission batteries together to power a hotplate. I mix RadX into my gecko stew to kill the radiation. I give it a taste and it's not bad, but I can feel sand gritting between my teeth. There's no getting around that, not with the storm blowing. The kid makes a face at the unwanted sand in his food, but Annie and I are used to it. Obviously, the kid isn't from the Mojave, besides his fussiness about the dirt, his skin is bright red and peeling from sunburn. No desert dweller him.

As we eat, I can see he is favoring his left shoulder. I put my plate down and tell him to take off his jacket and he does so gingerly. With the jacket off, I can see his shoulder has been badly burned by an energy weapon. From my medical kit I pull out a bag of healing powder and dress the wound. The boy flinches as I shake the powder on the burn, but soon relaxes as the powder numbs the pain.

"What's your name, boy?" I ask sitting down and picking up my supper once again.

"Jason," he replies. "Jason Cane."

"Why are you here in the Mojave, Jason Cane?"

"I belong to the Followers of the Apocalypse and I was asked to accompany Dr. Rex here to New Vegas."

"Hold up your hand, let me see the palms," I tell him.

He does as he is told, but his face is puzzled. I look at the skin of his palms and it tells me what I need to know.

"You're from the Hub and your family has money."

"How do you know that by looking at my hands?"

"You don't have any calluses. If you were a farmer or a worker, you would have calluses on your hands."

"My father is NCR Senator Eric Cane."

"How come you are with the followers?"

"I knew Dr. Rex, he sometimes teaches medicine at Hub's college. He told us all about the Followers and the good they were trying to do and I left school to join them last year. This is my first field assignment."

"A bright-eyed kid trying to save the world," I mutter to myself.

"Reminds me of another bright-eyed kid who once joined the NCR army to save the world." Annie says mockingly.

" In that case Jason Cane," I say, "you may end up with your very own shack in the mountains of a wasteland with monsters for neighbors and eating irradiated meals by yourself while listening to wind moan. Certainly something to dream about for the future."

"You can mock my decision, Mr. Harper, because I am young," the boy responds. "But Dr. Rex is over two hundred years old and he still tries to help the world. I can do no less, even if it is a fool's choice."

"God love you son, the world certainly needs it fools to keep it entertained."

The storm last for three days and we hunker down in my shack as we wait it out. The ghoul wakes up late on the second day. I've given him all the irradiated water I had and it seems to have done the trick. Annie feeds him some dried Dandy Boy Apples I had found in a vault. Its part of my emergency food supply, as it is too irradiated to eat every day. But Rex mumbles something about apple being his favorite flavor and the radiation will do him some good. By the third day the good doctor is up and about with a tremendous appetite. He finishes almost all of the irradiated foodstuffs I have, which is considerable, promising me the Followers will reimburse me for what he has taken.

I give the ghoul a new set of clothes and a ballcap he takes a liking to when he sees it. He said he use to be a big fan of Redbirds before the war, whatever that meant. I get the varmint rifle I was working on fixed, and give it and some ammo to the boy. Annie shows him how to load it and work the bolt. Annie asks if I have any 5.56mm ammo for her service rifle and I supply it, although I ignore her proffered thanks. Besides the weapons and ammo, I give them packs; trail rations, clean water, and bedrolls to sleep on at night. Annie has her combat knife, but he kid doesn't have a blade so I give him a machete I had taken from a Legionnaire during the second battle of Hoover Dam.

"Here," say to him as I hand him a cowboy hat, "this will keep the sun from cooking your brains while you're walking the wasteland. The smell of cooked brains might send the good doctor into a feeding frenzy."

The boy looks horrified, but Dr. Madrid throws back his head and laughs heartily at my joke.

"Come with us Mr. Harper," Dr. Rex says to me. "We could use your skills and knowledge of the area, and I will pay you guards wages on top of the reimbursement for the food and medicine you have supplied us, once we reach the fort, I mean."

I consider his offer, I could use the caps and some more supplies, but my desire, my need, to be alone fights to have me say no. In the end, the need for more supplies out maneuvers my misanthropic tendencies and I agree to go.

Just before dawn the next day, I don pre-war Mk II Combat Armor. I had gathered the pieces of my armor from more than a dozen sites during my travels and I repaired it back here in my shack. My sleeker Veteran Ranger armor was turned in when I mustered out eight years ago. On my head was a standard wide brimmed NCR helmet the troops called "soup bowls". A pair of sand goggles completed my attire.

As for weapons, I decided to take my trusty M1 Garand rifle with one hundred rounds of .308 FMJ ammo, and thirty rounds of armor piercing ammo, which is all I had. For close quarter battle, I carry a MagArms Timber Rattler 10mm Submachine gun modified with recoil compensator and using the extended magazines that holds forty rounds of ammunition instead of the usual thirty. Attached to the SMG is a wooden buttstock I carved from an old plank, it wasn't pretty, but it worked and with it I could more than triple the effective range of the gun. The sub-gun I let hang from a strap around my neck and on my right leg in a drop holster is N99 10mm Pistol with a laser site and a detachable silencer. I preferred using weapons of the same caliber to reduce the weight and types of ammo I have to carry. I also have a combat knife, a twin to the one Annie is carrying, except my knife has her name engraved on the blade and hers had mine.

My other gear is similar to what the others are carrying, so I don't need to describe it to you except for my binoculars and, of course, I also have my pip-boy that my grandfather gave to me after I had graduated from Ranger School at the NCR Hub Army Base. I am amazed the GPS function still works on the thing, which is a great asset to have here in the wastes. The V.A.T.S. function I only use in close fighting, preferring my own eye at range.

When the sun comes up, we are already on the trail heading back to place where the ambush took place. I lead the group through the twisting gullies and hidden tracks I have found over the last eight years of wandering the Mojave Wasteland. It's a slow, tough way to go, but we will slip past any one watching the road.

The first thing we see are buzzards circling overhead as we approach, but soon we can see the bhramin cow carcasses rotting in the sun as we lay on our bellies in the shade of a Joshua tree on a ridgeline overlooking the highway.


	2. Chapter 2

The buzzards were still circling four hours later as I surveyed the bloated corpses. The Mojave sun was burning hot and the rest moved off the ledge into the dubious shade of the cliff. Upon our earlier arrival, each of them had taken a look through my binos at the black swollen corpses the Khans had left behind.

"I only see Grimes and Suarez, the other two guards," said Rex. "Willy is missing."

"Who's that?" I ask.

He is our brahmin driver. Mentally he is…simple, but he has a gift for handling animals.

"The Khans may have taken him prisoner, thinking they could trade him for the drugs. They will probably make contact with The Followers in a couple of days asking for an exchange."

"That is not a choice I would want to make. Thousands, tens of thousands, of lives could depend on the medicines we develop from R-37-81, and yet I am loath to let someone else die for a mere possibility." The doc's scarred face showed the conflict churning within him.

"It has to be your call, Doc," I said.

"Is there any possibility of rescuing him?" Asked the ghoul doctor.

I looked up at the birds circling overhead and say, "Maybe."

If there is one virtue you need in the wasteland, it is patience. I ignored the sweat beading under my armor as I continued my vigil. I hear someone crawling up beside me. I think it might be Annie, but it was just the kid.

"How is waiting here going to help Willy?" He demands to know. "We broiling here watching vultures fly overhead. Shouldn't we be looking for him, or something?"

"The Mojave is a big place, Kid. It would take months to search all the nooks and crannies here. Here is your first lesson about the Mojave. What do you see wrong here?"

Jason takes my binoculars and scans the desert below and says, "All I see is Blowflies and the bodies of the Brahmin and the guards."

"Yeah," I reply, "that's all I see, too."

The kid continues to look through the binoculars, studying the desert like it was one of his textbooks from school. Eventually, he put the binos down to wipe his sleeve along his brow.

"The buzzards," he says. "Why haven't they started to feed?"

"Because something must be spooking them." I reply.

"Something is alive down there? Could it be Willy?"

"Doubtful. The Khans are not likely to let someone live and we would have seen a wounded man out there."

"Then what's out there?"

"That's the second lesson about surviving in the Mojave Wasteland; know your enemy."

The kid gives me a puzzled look and I decide to help his education along by saying, "The Khans are the greatest producer of chems in the wasteland. It stands to reason, if they make the chems then they use the chems."

Jason waits for me to say more, but I don't he turns back to scanning the desert. Thirty minutes later he says in a hesitant voice, "I thought I saw the ground move."

I take the binoculars back and I am awarded in few minutes for my efforts. "You did. Now watch some more."

Rex and Annie, intrigued, crawl back onto the ledge. Annie is so close to me she is touching. She acts as if she doesn't notice how close we are and stares into the shimmering waves of heat coming off the sand. Within a few moments four people, buried in the sand under blankets, emerge from their ambush spots.

"Chems make you jumpy, Kid." I say softly to Cane. "Hard to lay still when your brain is twitching and squirming. We couldn't see it, but the buzzards were obviously seeing them moving. We are going to follow these bastards to their camp."

The Khans disappear into the rocks to our right. I lead the rest along secret paths to intercept the Great Khans. We arrive at an overlook just in time to see them disappear into the narrow mouth of a small box canyon. The sun is low in the sky and the canyons are filling with shadows. Jason starts to get up from our hiding position but I quickly pull him down. Once again I scan the scene through my binoculars.

"I see one on left side," Annie whispers, "hiding in the shadow of that large overhang with the white streaks in it."

I soon confirm the presence of the guard. I then say, "I got one the right, hiding in the boulders on top."

"I see him," Annie says. "How do you want to handle this?"

"Can you make a pistol shot from here?"

"Of Course."

"I will take out the guard on top. He might make some noise, if the other Khan sticks his head out, put a bullet in it, but wait until I take out the other guy, if you can."

Annie nods at my instructions and I give her my silenced 10mm. I then move out slowly to circle around the lip of the canyon. It takes me over an hour before I'm in position, but now I'm close enough to smell the stink on the Khan. He's young and bored and not paying attention too much in particular. He's armed with an old Chinese assault rifle, but it is leaning against a bolder. I crawl slowly onto the hot boulder he is leaning against and then I forego any subtle commando techniques and smash his skull with a rock. With a sickening crunch, the boy falls over and dies without making sound. I don't even here the shots, just the sound of a body sliding on the rocks.

I make my way back to my companions and we set off in the near dark. A few of the brightest stars are out now. Moonrise isn't for a couple of hours so we work I way slowly into the canyon.

A fire is burning and we can see the khans hunkering around it. I can see a bound figure lying on the sandy ground. One of the Khans is poking the figure with stick, its tip burning red in the night. The figure whimpers and the Khan laugh. Empty chem vials litter the ground. The Khans are hyped on Jet and are practically dancing around the fire.

"They are torturing Willy" the doc whispers to me, " we must help him."

"We wait." I reply.

"But…"

"We wait," I insist. "They are so hyped up they shoot at anything if we attack. But they are going to crash soon, and then we'll move.

Any wood you find in the Mojave is going to be as dry as old bones. The fire burns hot and quick, consuming the firewood the Khans have used and only coals remain. The rush of the Jet wears off and the Khans begin to crash, crawling toward their bedrolls.

Soon, the only sounds coming from the camp are two lovers wrestling under a blanket and making love noises.

"Wait here," I order as move into the camp. The lovers are reaching the height of their lovemaking and are oblivious to me until I pump half a dozen rounds through their blanket with my silenced pistol.

I move over to Willy, and I put my hand over his mouth to keep him from crying out and then I whisper to him, "Dr. Rex sent me to take you home. I'm going to cut you loose and we are going to have to be very, very quiet so we can get away. Nod your head if you understand."

Willy nods and I use my knife to cut the rawhide straps binding him. His legs are numb from lack of circulation and I have to help him to walk. Maybe we made a noise, or maybe the Khans were as far gone as I hoped, but we don't get very far before some calls out the alarm.

Annie opens fire immediately with her service rifle. I hear the pop of the varmint rifle as well. The Khans are confused and foggy from the chem, but they are recovering quickly. Dr. Rex runs forward to take car of Willy. With his weight off of me, I key in the V.A.T.S. function on my Pip-Boy. The neural interface highlights the threats and causes my body to dump a crap ton of adrenaline into my system so everything seems to slow down and my senses become heightened to almost superhuman levels.

My submachine gun comes up automatically and I start rattling of short bursts of 10mm bullets into the Khans. I get lucky as one of them pulls the pin on a grenade, and I shoot her before she has a chance to throw it. The grenade goes off in the middle of them and several go down.

The human system can only be supercharged for so long before nerve damage occurs. The V.A.T.S. disconnects and goes on a timer, allowing my central nervous system to recover. I can now hear the Khans firing and the whine of bullets ricocheting off the walls of the canyon. I feel a burn in my right leg, painful but not disabling, and I turn and run.

I drop down behind a boulder opposite of where Annie is and order the doc and the kid to move out with Willy. Born of battles fought together long ago, Annie and I lay covering fire as we retreat. First she moves back, and then I do, as we leapfrog in our retreat. This way we buy time for the civilians and slow down the Khan's advance.

I key the V.A.T.S program as quickly at it resets and more Khans fall dead on the sand. The Khans are tough, the follow us through the narrow passes firing wildly. But even the Khans will question the wisdom of following an unknown foe in the dark, eventually. Twenty minutes later the volume of fire slackens.

"Now's our chance. Let's go Annie." I whisper to her in the darkness. I hear only a low moan answer me. I quickly crawl to her position and as I reach out to her, I feel the warm blood flowing from her wounds. I sling her over my shoulder in a fireman's carry and I flee after my companions.

I'm soon reunited with them, and we make for a safe place I know about. As soon as we arrive, I drop Annie to the ground and key on the light on my Pip-Boy. Annie's face is ashen and her lips are colorless. I open her armor to find a bullet has gone into her armpit.

"It's gotta be artery, with this much blood," She whispers.

Dr. Rex shoves a needle in her arm and connects a bio-monitor to her wrist. He looks at the number falling on the monitor and then to me and gives me a slight shake of his head.

I cradle Annie's head in my arms, her blood soaking me, but I don't care.

"It's okay, John. It doesn't hurt anymore," she says to me, "but it's cold. Hold me, John."

"I got you."

"Why didn't it work out with us, John?"

"You left for me for that guy at the Silver Rush."

"He dumped me a few weeks later. I was too ashamed to come back to you and too afraid you wouldn't want me back."

"I would have given anything to get you back, Annie."

"You wanted a family and I said I wanted one too, but I was scared. Scared I wouldn't be a good mother. You always wanted a little girl."

"She would have been beautiful, like her mother."

"Do you remember the place we use to go, when we use to talk about our life together? The place with the desert flowers.

"I remember, Annie."

"There…"

Annie dies in my arms. When the day comes, we make our way to Good Springs. The Doc in Good Springs treats Willy's wounds and my own, which are not serious. Dr. Rex arranges to travel with merchant caravan watering their brahmin at the springs. Dr. Rex asks me to go with them, but I tell them I will catch up with him later at the Old Mormon Fort. He shakes my hand and leaves.

By the time the sun is going down, I have dug Annie's grave and put up a white cross marker with her name on it. I sit on the ledge and look westward at the crimson sunset. The same color is found among the flowers growing on the thick stand cacti that surround our old spot where we once talked of love and life and the future. It is beautiful here with all the vibrant colors surrounding us.

There is a saying among the settlers of the wasteland that the only reason anything grows here is because we water the Mojave with our tears.


End file.
